Patience
by Lament
Summary: Danny and Flack are working the apparent homicide of a homeless man. Fortunately for Danny, Flack's a patient man. Danny-Flack pairing.


Title: Patience

Warnings: Sigh… Slash.

Author's Notes: It's kind of fluffy, but writing it made me happy. ; ) Flack's POV this time.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.

-

This job has its ups and downs. But I gotta say that working with Danny Messer…that's a definite up.

This morning, we got a call that a couple of kids found a dead body in an alley behind one of my favorite delis. The vic looks to be homeless, but who knows? Whoever he is, it's a shame he had to go in damp alleyway surrounded by empty crates.

At the moment, I'm standing a reasonable distance away from our db, watching Danny as he finishes bagging the guy's hands. Danny showed up to the scene alone today, so it looks like Mac's letting him solo again. Good for him.

And I don't mind a bit. I kind of like watching Danny work. He can get so excited about the dumbest stuff…it's like he's a kid with a new toy. And even when he's coming up empty, he keeps plugging away. He's a persistent one, that guy.

Twisting his body to face me, Danny holds up a small evidence bag and grins. "Found glass in the wound," he says.

I lean down slightly. "So…what? We're looking for a bottle or something?"

"That's what I'm thinking," he says. Standing up, Danny pushes up his glasses with the knuckle of his right index finger and glances around the alley. "Okay," he says. "So, we need to find a broken bottle, or maybe some shards of glass."

I raise my eyebrows. "In an alley in New York City?"

Danny cocks his head at me, and then grins. "Well, we can start by following the trail of blood." Snatching up his kit, Danny starts working his way down the alley.

Ambling along behind him, I smirk. "Is that like the yellow brick road?"

Danny laughs. "It is if it leads us to the murder weapon," he says.

When I work with Danny, I can't help but get a little excited, too. And not just about the case, if I'm being honest. As it turns out, I've developed a slight crush on Danny. No, not a crush. An attraction. And I'm pretty sure it's mutual, unless I'm totally misreading the signals.

I've been nursing this thing for a while now. It started out with Danny and me hanging out after work. But just as friends, y'know? Sometimes we'd grab pizza or have a drink. And we'd shoot hoops every couple of weeks. But the closer Danny and I got, the more attracted to him I became. How could I help it? I mean, I'm not blind.

So the question now is…do I make a move? Or would that ruin our friendship?

Danny and I stroll a ways down the alley until we find the source of our blood trail—a dumpster. Grimacing, Danny says, "Bingo. We've found our point of origin."

"Nice," I say, trying not to smile like a kid at Christmas.

Danny shoots me a look. "You gotta be kidding."

I throw up my hands. "Hey, I only answer the calls. Just like you, pal."

Letting out a breath, he nods. "How many dumpsters have I been in this year, Flack?"

I grin. "I don't know, buddy, but you better get to it. What if it rains?"

Danny gazes at me, and then up at the sky, as if he's actually trying to gauge the likelihood of it suddenly pouring down rain. Honestly, sometimes, Danny gets so serious I can't help but have a little fun with him.

After a few seconds, Danny lets out a breath and glances at his gloved hands. Then he licks his lips and gazes down at his clothes. I'm guessing he's wishing he had a latex glove big enough to cover his suit right now.

"Hey, maybe you should put on one of those blue coverall things," I suggest.

He shakes his head. "Nah. It's not like I'm gonna climb all the way in there or anything. I'm just gonna look around."

Clearing my throat in an attempt to keep from laughing, I ask, "What if there's evidence in there?"

Glaring, he snaps, "You want to come over here and help me?"

I grin. "I'd like to, Danny, but I wouldn't know what I was looking for."

Danny frowns at me for a moment, and then steps gingerly onto a crate. Exhaling loudly, he leans his upper body against the edge of the dumpster and peers inside.

"So," he says. "Maybe the guy saw something he shouldn't have, and someone decided to shut him up."

"Could be," I say. I glance down the alley at the two uniforms who are waiting with the body. They're chatting with each other, so I sneak a look at Danny's backside. Nice. Is it any wonder I have a thing for him?

After a few seconds, I hear, "Hey, Flack. Snap out of it."

Startled, I glance up to find Danny gazing intently at me. Clearing my throat, I say, "You find a piece of evidence, Danny?"

A grin flits across Danny's face. "Could be." He stares at me for a moment, and then holds up a bottle. "Check it out," he says. "Looks like blood. Hand me a bag. I'll test it in a minute."

Tugging on a pair of gloves, I pull a bag out of Danny's kit and hold it while he deposits the bottle inside.

After the bottle is safely secured, Danny leans a little further over the dumpster, causing the crate to crack a little. "I don't see anything else. Maybe we'll get lucky with the blood trail."

"Take it easy, Danny," I say, taking a step forward. "That crate's a little flimsy."

Danny shoots me a glance. "I'm fine," he says.

"Okay," I say, taking a step backward. I can pretty much see what's coming, but you gotta know how to handle Danny. I mean, he can be a little on the touchy side, so you gotta give him his space. If you try to rush him, or get in his way, or make him feel like you're condescending to him, he's gonna bristle and get frustrated.

So, I guess I'll just stand here and watch.

"Anyway, Flack," he says, sorting through the contents of the dumpster. "Like I was saying…stabbers usually cut them—"

Almost in slow motion, the crate Danny's standing on busts, sending Danny headfirst into the dumpster. I bite down hard on my bottom lip.

When I notice the two uniforms busting a gut, I shoot 'em a glare, and they get the message pretty quick.

"Hey, you need some help, Danny?" I ask, running over to the dumpster.

"Nah, I'm good," he says, obviously trying to salvage what's left of his dignity. Of course, how dignified can he expect to be with his head buried in a dumpster?

After he struggles for a few seconds, Danny manages to pull himself out of the garbage pile and deposit himself back onto solid ground. He lets out a quick, nervous laugh. "I guess that crate was flimsy like you though," he says.

"I guess," I say, smiling.

-

I follow Danny back to the lab so he can drop off the evidence and clean himself up. Predictably, Stella and Aiden give him a hard time. Poor guy. But he can't say I didn't warn him.

After each piece of evidence has been taken to it's proper lab, I follow Danny down the hall toward the locker room. "So what now?" I ask.

"Now," he says. "I take a shower. No one wants a dirty CSI around."

I nod. "Good thing you bring a spare set of clothes."

Grinning, he says, "You know how many outfits I've ruined?" He gazes at me for a moment. "Well, I'll be out in a little bit."

As Danny walks toward the showers, I call out, "Hey Danny. You want some help in there?"

Danny stops and stares at me. He licks his lips, smiling slightly. "Very cute," he says, and then disappears into the shower room.

Flashing a smile, I call out, "I was only kidding."

Sort of.


End file.
